


Maybe Later

by orphan_account



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Jesse being a huge fucking sap, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-10
Updated: 2017-03-10
Packaged: 2018-10-02 09:12:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 462
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10214258
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: And there it was, just like he called it, Jesse is crying in a bar at 2 AM, downing shots of whiskey like they’re milk, and nobody pays him any mind.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Just a transfer of a drabble from Tumblr, don't mind me.

Sometimes all Jesse wants to do is hide away from all the warrants hes got on his head, shrug off the dirty looks he gets every time he enters the diner. It’s not easy being in Deadlock, much less someone none of your peers can’t stand to even look at with a straight face. 

Is it disgust? Is it pity? He can’t really tell, it hurts all the same. Jesse chews on the end of his thumb. Doesn’t matter, it’s already raw and ruined. Damn his thumb. 

There isn’t much satisfaction in his work as a lackey; do some dirty thievery, slit a couple throats, shoot a couple guns, jerk off in his buddy’s bunk while he’s in the showers. Even if his days are eventful with some fights here and there, it’s more or less the same and without a trace of a friendly face. Out in the Mojave surrounded by someone else at all times, Jesse feels terrifying alone.

Ever since Reyes relocated, things hadn’t really been the same. Their relationship was just a tussle here and there every now and then. It held no meaning to such a man deserving of respect ultimately yet time and time again after Reyes snuffed out his smoke and returned to his own quarters, Jesse McCree, 26 and in all of his studly prime would cry himself to sleep, because he knew he’d miss the touch of another human being.

And there it was, just like he called it, Jesse is crying in a bar at 2 AM, downing shots of whiskey like they’re milk, and nobody pays him any mind. He doesn’t know when he’d turned into such a fucking baby, he’s ashamed of it, but there’s so little he can do about it. 

He’s got nothing else going for him. Without Deadlock, he’d be little more than a bum, he already receives little recognition as is. He feels stuck in life, and lost without Gabriel. 

Since when did a relationship he didn’t really even have dictate when and where he’d turn into an embarrassing wreck? 

He knew he was going to cling to near anything that would pull him out of his lonely little everyday funk, but this was ridiculous. He’s getting snot in his glass. It’s gotten past the point he can crack some clever jokes at his own expense.

Jesse stares at his own broken reflection in the bar’s mirror before him, wishes there was some way to turn it all back and get himself together. A heavy sigh shudders up and out of him as he stuffs his mouth with a cigar and lights it.

"Woe is me, right?“ His voice is broken and ragged, biting. He chews on the end of his cigar bitterly. "Load of horseshit.”


End file.
